


Disturb

by Hyacinthium



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Biological immortality, Body Horror, Gen, Gore, Happy Halloween!, Mutation, Suicide, Zombie Kokichis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-06 04:37:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16381535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: Ouma Kokichi is a totally normal example of the human race. Completely. That's a lie though. Sometimes, he thinks he was never human at all.





	1. Executive

**Author's Note:**

> Halloween is a fun time! I'm so glad that it has an entire month dedicated to it. I should have written Halloween fic stuff earlier...

Ouma Kokichi cannot die. 

It's a minor fact of his life now, just a something, a single bothersome condition that entails sewing and bandages. Hours spent closing up and caring for even the most minor of wounds. Barely any of his sluggish blood even bothers to escape anymore. Not unless it's around his head. Head wounds bleed far more than they should. The color is black or brown- the scent disturbingly absent. Privately, Kokichi would prefer to smell of rot. 

Yet all of them eventually heal into small little scars of white. Whether it is a cut, of any depth, or a mangled limb that he turns into a mess of thread and-

Kokichi swallows harshly as he scratches at the sewn up gash on his forehead. 

Ouma Kokichi cannot die. 

For every fatal or not so fatal injury. Perforation or fracture, they're all the same, similar in the way his body lazily returns to normal each time. 

Bones spend agonizing hours crunching and grinding together until everything is correctly aligned. Flesh burns and pinches as thread helps guide it back faster. That's the best case scenario. Growing back in a manner that makes him writhe for days is the worst case. Organs end up becoming strange sludge either way though, disgusting mimicry of their former shapes as they continue to chug alongside undamaged specimens. No matter what. They'll just become that way. 

Kokichi knows this because he's cut himself open before. His insides are the same color as deep purple bruises now. It's probably worse in there than before. Years worth of new injuries and recoveries, more of those tiny white scars that most can't see, there's probably nothing human inside of his body. The boy naturally works just as well as before. Objectively speaking. Kokichi is healthy as far as functionality goes. He's far too pale, but otherwise he gets perfect reviews for each doctor visits. 

There's nothing wrong with him at all, they say. Kokichi appreciates the fact that he's avoided being shoved into a laboratory. 

There has been something wrong with him since he fell into a river at age five and woke up with his neck twisted like an owl's. 

At times like that there is nothing more that Kokichi wants to do than one thing, just one, an impulse; to rip himself open and show off the discolored mess that has replaced his internals. 

There was a month where he bought and cared for some houseplants. He fed them some of him. Just a little bit of blood sludge. 

It took weeks to clean all the meat off of his apartment. 

Kokichi turns over onto his side and squeezes his pillow. 

He still can't believe that he just watched it all with perfect detachment for days. Just gazed at dying mutated plants spreading around walls, throbbing roots like sticky meat- fighting and infected with him and trying to consume one another. For nutritional value. Dissociation is just such a drug that Kokichi didn't realize until a DICE member started knocking on his door. He still can't believe that he did that. 

Or maybe Kokichi can believe it, since he's doing the same thing right now. 

The Killing Game is awful. Killing is awful. Making people suffer is wrong. He wants nothing to do with other people dying or other people killing. 

Ouma Kokichi cannot die. 

But he can suffer. 

But he is a risk. 

So Ouma Kokichi is watching infected plants burst like puss bubbles, steaming flesh crawling up walls and across his door. He's certain that nothing is going to be getting inside or outside. The meat is much more robust than last time. DICE isn't here anymore and was probably never real. No one is going to be opening it up or saving him. He'll finally be alone. The boy can't bring himself to grab the motive video. It really is quite motivating. So very very very very very-

Something heavy and hot drips down onto Kokichi's legs. The room smells like blood and something else. Purple eyes open up to glance around. Almost artery like structures are starting to fill the room. Connecting various masses of sticky red. More slim clumps of viscera fall to him, bringing near burning heat to his body, and the boy moves away. Sticky slimy veins. 

Kokichi tucks his legs and feet closer to him. 

It makes the fresh stitches on Kokichi's stomach twinge angrily. 

I shouldn't have done this, his brain whispers. What if it gets out, his heart whimpers. I don't want to be here anymore and I don't care anymore, Kokichi tells them. Too quickly. 

A stabbing sting pulses up from legs to spine, and Kokichi's eyes manage to spot exactly how his skin looks as things spread their roots inside of him. 

Maybe he's finally going to die now. With monsters made of creatures that partook in his flesh deciding they want more. Maybe they'll use his to propagate across the planet, or cause a zombie apocalypse, or maybe someone will hear how hard Kokichi is crying out for help-

Heat and blood creep down from the wall behind Kokichi's bed. 

It's a scary prospect to imagine. That whatever happens next won't kill him. Even as undulating curls of slick meat fall down around him to the point of constriction. Like a veil over the boy's panicking body as he feels things start to squirm around inside. Make their way past epidermis and hit gold in his chest cavity. 

Ouma Kokichi can't die. 

There's only the space around him left. There's no space left. There's no air left. 

Turning everything into flowers would be nice. Kokichi can just. It hurts. It hurts it's horrible it's so painful-

Really, no one will miss him. Kokichi knows from the way those red and gold eyes stared at him. Watched him walk off the same way that… Really… really… 

Something spreads deep past Kokichi's unseeingly wide eyes. 

The pain in his heart finally ceases.


	2. Motive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is wrong in their murderous cage. Something to do with Ouma Kokichi, and so, Saihara Shuichi investigates.

Ouma Kokichi has been ‘acting’ strange lately. 

No one quite saw him the day after the third trial. Today is indeed the fourth day of The Ouma Oddities. Proper case title being somewhat necessary when considering the scale of Ouma’s figurative person. Ouma is not a very unnoticed human being. Rather, it's a huge red flag for the boy to be all but missing. Yet the Ultimate Supreme Leader has, and it needs to be said, become something of a ghost. It's something that everyone has noticed by now. The encounters are also something that everyone has heard of. Shuichi himself hasn't seen the other boy even once though. 

Other people certainly have seen Ouma, and they are very much free in explaining their unnerving encounters. Himiko reports a glimpse of him walking around the morning after. On the third day, Kaito had an actual interaction. Maki insists that she merely had a suspicious one the night after the trial… 

Honestly, the most recent is the most strange. 

All leading up to the current meeting in the cafeteria, if only between those so far involved. It's almost like a professional meeting. Gift snacks and extremely simple cooking as their lunch aside. 

“So to recap from the top, one final time…” Shuichi begins. “Harukawa-san saw Ouma-kun covered in dirt last night, with armfuls of uprooted plants. This morning had Momota-kun spotting him going into the gym, and Ouma-kun didn't notice Momota-kun or speak-”

Kaito puts his cup of water back onto the cafeteria table with a clack. Frowning in an almost uncharacteristically troubled way, the astronaut crosses his arms. 

“It wasn't that he didn't notice me. He couldn't acknowledge my existence until I got right next to him. That guy wasn't walking right, and then all Ouma did was go right up to that stage and stare!” Kaito loudly recounts. With all the mutual unease going around, it's comforting to hear Kaito's usual energetic voice. Still… 

Shuichi’s eyebrows furrow, “Are you sure that he wasn't ignoring you?”

All that gets is another shake of the head. 

“He looked at me like he'd never seen another human being,” Kaito says. “And then… it was just creepy.”

Maki simply snorts and plays with her hair, “How's your finger, Saihara?”

Blinking, Shuichi looks down at the result of his ill-advised attempts at cooking. Nothing much worse that a particularly painful paper cut on his pointer finger. Any bleeding has long since ceased in favor of being an aching nuisance. Maki reacts quickly when it comes to kitchen mishaps… 

The detective shakes his head and looks away from his bandaid, “Still hurts. But what did you mean by stare?”

Kaito's lips thin. 

“He was staring at where Hoshi’s body would have been,” the other boy slowly says. “Not a single noise, just looking. Tilted his whole upper body like a slinky when I finally got his attention.”

Everyone quietly watches as Kaito shivers while muttering about possession. It's not too odd a thing for Kaito to be worried about, Shuichi supposes. After the third trial and all it entailed for them anyway. It would be strange for a person scared by ghosts to not be scared by possible ghosts. Though Maki has made it clear that she believes Ouma to merely be planning something. A prank in the making shouldn't be too unbelievable, since it's Ouma, but Shuichi isn't sure. 

The fourth person at the table speaks up, “That would match my own… encounter with Ouma-kun.”

Shuichi glances over at Shirogane with slight unease. The girl has, this whole time, been near disturbingly quiet. He's not exactly being made uncomfortable by her though. She's not acting like someone dangerous or anything at all. Just the combination of things, that's all it is. That Ouma is apparently acting extremely off. Wrong. Yet the possibility of it being far worse than acting is present. No one has said anything, not even Maki, but still. Shuichi isn't sure at what made him unable to move an inch. Logically speaking it must have been shock. Mixed with the freeze response. Fear and disbelief. The weightlessly heavy feeling of knowing that you'll wake up at any moment, because this can't be real. 

But those are all excuses. 

No matter the quick visual recovery- any weirdness on Ouma’s part is likely because of a concussion. 

It's an injury that was and is obvious, but Shuichi couldn't force his body to move and now Ouma is paying for it. There's no excuse. Even though Shuichi knows about these things from cases- he can't absolve himself. He stood still and watched Ouma just barely walk away. 

He gulps down bitterness and continues, “In the third encounter, Shirogane-san went into the library and tried to find something to read. Ouma-kun entered the library after twenty minutes. There were attempts at communication. However, Ouma-kun did not seem to hear or see you, and eventually he went from ‘stumbling around’ to staring at…”

Gold and blue eyes meet with mutual hesitation. The girl looks away with a worried expression. 

“He was looking right at where… at where the first victim died. Ouma’s face- it was faintly smiling but nothing was home there,” Shirogane murmurs. “When I tried shaking him out if it, he lurched at me.”

The words settle around the room like smoke, atmosphere shifting. 

“I don't really care about him,” Maki says. “But he's probably more dangerous like this.”

Kaito's nervous shiver, doubtlessly from ghost related thoughts, makes his lips twitch. The astronaut smiles, “To himself?”

“Sure,” Maki replies as she eats some rice. 

The astronaut rubs the back of his head. 

“Right, I think that Shirogane-san and I should go check out the library… we'll see you later?” Shuichi tells them, just after a shared look between himself and the Ultimate Cosplayer. 

Kaito's face portrays a perfect example of internal conflict. Having the chance for ghostly possession on the table must be combating his heroic bravado. Shuichi smiles in an attempt the calm down his friend, but Maki just sighs. One of her hands awkwardly pats at Kaito's shoulder- as if doing so is an alien interaction. Perhaps something along those lines. He glances over at a subdued Shirogane and tries to straighten his back. 

Everything will most likely go fine. Maki would be insisting on going with them if she thought something bad would happen, maybe… 

Which means that nothing is wrong? 

“And I guess- we should go investigate?” Shuichi half wheezes. 

Scratch that 'half' part, everything about the detective's offer is a wheeze. It makes Shirogane glance up at him with bright blue eyes though. That must be better than her constantly looking down at her feet in worry.

The girl gets up slowly and brushes off her skirt, exhaling, "That would plainly be for the best... But are you sure you want to? He was acting very very off."

Guilt and concern bubble up inside of the boy's chest. It's probably his fault after all. Not that Shuichi actually could have done anything about a concussion that ended up being this bad. Unless Ouma really is staging a massive prank. Shuichi, despite however crude it might be, is definitely hoping that this is all a prank.

Like that and with zero talking involved, the Ultimate Cosplayer and Ultimate Detective head off to the library. Ouma will likely be gone when they get there. A hindrance as well as a boon- because the other boy is dead set on acting erratically. The two of them will be able to search the area for anything amiss. Nothing much more or less than that. A quiet and uneasy task, but safe and without a frightening interaction. 

That's what Shuichi brings himself to expect. 

It is the opposite of what he gets.

Opening the door to the library and walking inside causes an instant sound of distress from Shirogane. Shuichi doesn't understand why until he actually walks over to where Amami died. Actually, he barely walks so much as sneaks. There's just something totally off-putting about everything happening. Nothing is even happening though. 

Except it is. Ouma Kokichi is on his hands and knees. 

A single hand, far paler than any living person's should be, is rubbing into the exact spot where Amami's head was.

"Jesus what is he-" Shirogane cuts herself off with a small gasp.

Understandable considering how Ouma pauses at her whisper. No... It's like watching one of those pre-programmed robots malfunction. Anything like movement ceases to be an option. Yet at the same time, the other boy goes limp like an animal. Suspended. That curtain of black hair, faintly plum colored and lacking the bright tips, shifts as Ouma slowly tilts his head.

The dead fish gaze in the one eye that Shuichi can see makes the detective flinch back, mouth opening and closing. Chills prick into his spine while his hair stands on end. The sound of the floor getting scratched at echoes everywhere too, and Shuichi again feels frozen. Questions dance around in his panicking brain. Can a concussion make someone like this? What is Ouma even attempting to do? Why would someone this sick hang around where people have died? Is-

Ouma slowly stops clawing at where Amami's busted open skull was laying. He puts his hand exactly parallel to the other, turning further towards them, and pushes himself up until he's on both knees. Looks up and down at where the shotput ball would have fallen and- oh God the books where the camera was are a torn up mess-

Shuichi and Shirogane both back away as Ouma stumbles onto his feet. As if he's never walked before. The Ultimate Cosplayer outright scrunched herself up to Shuichi’s back too. Muttering quietly behind him. But nothing suddenly happens. Ouma doesn't pounce at them or make any move in their direction.

He just stares.

"H-hello?" asks the hiding girl. Sensible and also kind of rude.

Shirogane's hesitant greeting earns nothing but more staring. At least, only at first. Ouma's lax mouth slowly twitches into a parody of his usual smile. The sight of it makes Shuichi zero in on something. It's a strange, perhaps gut wrenching, fact of who is looking at him. Not even the slightest hint of pink is anywhere on Ouma’s face. He was pale before and looks worse now. In no conceivable way is the boy healthy. Actually, he looks like someone who recently lost a large amount of blood.

Or…

No, Shuichi tells himself. There's no way that the detective is going to let himself go down that route. He doesn't want to.

Gulping, he slowly opens his mouth to speak. Shuichi doesn't have a clue as to what he'll say, and yet he still tries to gather air into his lungs, only to stop at the last second. All the oxygen that the boy just took in goes to formulate a solid rock in his chest. Shuichi watches with as Ouma's right eye glances away from him, the other glaring straight at him. 

The wayward eye's pupil slowly expands until it almost conceals the iris.

"Ouma-kun please just say something!" Shuichi blurts out, heartbeat picking up speed while his eyes send more information to his brain. 

Everything about right now is wrong. The atmosphere, Ouma, how Shirogane is holding onto Shuichi like a lifeline; it's a deep-seated and almost primitive niggling spreading from the back of his head. Ravenous and cold, the instinct to flee coiling with the inability to use his own muscles. There's no relief when Ouma tilts his head again. Watching that eye drift back into proper place doesn't make Shuichi feel safer. Even the pupil dilating back to a normal size, matching the left, can't stop the boy from starting to sweat.

Ouma leans forward on occasionally shaking legs. Looks up at Shuichi and keeps his eyes locked into place. It's so unnerving that the boy amends his earlier thoughts. The Ultimate Supreme Leader isn't like a machine at all. No, he's acting like an animal. As if he's a wild thing observing them while safely hidden behind foliage. 

Shuichi honestly wishes that Gonta had been around to come with them. This strangely predatory version of Ouma might be well handled by the formerly wild boy.

Perhaps it's just Shuichi’s confused mind grasping stereotypical straws. He could even be outright rude to consider it.

But damn if the detective doesn't wish that Maki hadn't stayed behind with Kaito.

That uncanny smile on Ouma’s face twitches as his nose does, lips stretching as the other boy smells something. Shuichi’s stomach squirms uneasily at the sight. He's about to call off everything and run like Shirogane says she did earlier. Something about Ouma makes every bone in Shuichi’s body ache with terror. No. No, its not just terror. 

The strongest emotion gnawing at Shuichi’s insides is unending guilt.

So when Ouma tries to walk towards them and trips just three steps in, Shuichi manages to break past the mental barrier making him freeze- and darts over to where a dazed Ouma is trying to stay upright. Shirogane makes a frustratedly scared shriek as he does so. Yet the sound of it just motivates him to go faster. To reach Ouma before he actually falls. That's probably why the other Ultimate was on the floor earlier too. Whatever is making the boy act this way, concussion or something more, everything must be a misunderstanding.

He's just sick, the detective decides as he finally grabs onto white cloth.

Warm to the point of being hot, too. The sheer heat felt through Ouma's uniform makes Shuichi frown. Ouma himself makes a slow and noisy exhalation. Then his hands curiously pat against Shuichi. Then, tilting and straining his neck with wide eyes, the boy blinks. It does wonders for Shuichi's comfort. And it also makes him realize something almost gross. This first time those empty purple eyes have blinked at all.

A pale and trembling hand grips onto Shuichi’s right sleeve and makes a fist. Ouma stares at his hand like he's never seen it before. Everyone's testimonies are correct…

Blinking again, the boy slumping into Shuichi's hold slowly stares up at him. Open mouthed, just a bit, with a glazed sort confusion on his face. They look at one another with an almost matching awkwardness. Despite the persistent blackness of Ouma’s figurative person, the boy seems to be aware. Somewhat. Hopefully mostly. As the detective tries consider helping the boy stand up properly again, Ouma moves.

He moves quickly. Violently, even.

He yanks one of Shuichi’s hands closer to his field of vision. The force of it makes Shuichi yelp. 

The hand with the cut finger, to be specific, and Ouma wastes no time in using his own fingers to inspect the wound.

After that sudden burst of dexterity and speed, nothing happens again.

"I uh, I was cooking with Maki and Kaito earlier. To make food for breakfast, but it got cut, and the bandage must have come off..." Shuichi tries to explain, gently tugging his finger away to no avail. He frowns, "I understand that Ouma-kun is- well you're clearly very ill. But if I could have my hand back th- Ouch!"

Ouma's mouth is around his finger. Lifelessly pale lips tight. 

Teeth clenched down. 

Shuichi winces at the feeling of nails digging into his skin, of a tongue pressing into his cut until pain flares up, and before long the only thing he can do is try to push Ouma's head away. Doing so is easier said than done. The detective can almost feel the cut opening up again- can tell that blood is seeping out as warm, slimy, suction makes his blood curdle. Panicked revulsion makes guilt and fear subside just enough. Ouma gets pushed away the moment he stops. On his own, Shuichi’s protests meaningless.

The detective immediately starts to apologize as they stumble apart from one another, just barely noticing a white leaf falling to the floor. His feet can't seem to figure out how to work and both of them fall right onto their rears. Silence fills the room again. They eye one another for a few seconds.

Ouma blinks thrice before another twitching smile fills up his face.

It's nothing like his old smiles. It's barely a smile at all. Like his facial muscles are locking up into what they remember a smile should be, failing eerily. As Shuichi shivers and wipes off near burningly hot saliva, he can't help but think it. Ouma's expressions look like the kind that corpses have.

Purple eyes dart down to Shuichi’s once again bleeding finger.

Shuichi forces himself up onto wobbling legs, forces all the jumbled screaming emotions down, and he slowly steps backwards. Again and again as he watches Ouma watch his injury. Not once does the boy's gaze falter. Until he's next to an aghast Shirogane, clutching onto her, and both of them are running away from a slowly standing Ouma Kokichi.

"Guh....bwhhh Huuuhhheehe-"

The detective tenses but refuses to look back. He's not hearing anything. No inhuman clicks, no rasping hisses, Shuichi’s legs are just snapping him forward and Shirogane is opening the door like their lives depend on it. Maybe they do. Either way, there is no gut clenching parody of a boy's cheerful voice making warbling laughter behind them. Shuichi doesn't shudder. 

Doesn't realize that this is going to haunt his nightmares- already full of Ouma’s hatred and blame fill eyes ripping into him from a blood covered face. 

It's a lie. 

Ouma's slurred voice calls out to them as the library door closes, toneless, "Goood byyee-e!"

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, tagging this was rather hard. QOQ; I suppose writing what amounts to the source of a zombie virus commiting suicide via said virus... Isn't easy to tag?


End file.
